


A Long Shot From Historic

by agnes_stewart



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Café Musain, Cats, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agnes_stewart/pseuds/agnes_stewart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They fought over the silly things, and bonded over Courf's cooking. They were less than perfect, but things would've been different if they were. Not everything could be fine and dandy like those Hallmark movies they constantly ridiculed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long Shot From Historic

The Café Musain was home to many things: the city's best grilled cheese; a stash of cheap wine; and les Amis, a group of students from the nearby university. They held their meetings in the back room of the establishment, where they gathered over drinks and food, discussing ideals and fantasies about the future.

The undisputed leader of the group was Enjolras. Calm and uncaring, fiery and passionate, the attractive, blonde man appeared as more god than human to his friends. Really they were teasing, and he pretended not to care as he pushed them about his ideals, and the need for change.

Right after Enjolras was Combeferre. Majoring in philosophy, the young man was nearly as passionate as the leader, taking extensive notes during meetings and sending out emails with those notes attached, as well as the time of the next meeting. His parents thought philosophy was useless, so he found solace in his friends… and his piles of textbooks.

Then there was Courfeyrac. More of a jokester than anything, the dark-haired young man was studying English literature, if for no other reason than that he shared classes with Jehan. He was loud, good-humored, and forward, always looking for a good time. In someone else it would have been off-putting, but Courfeyrac had this childish air about him that made it hard to dislike him. Also, he was a surprisingly good cook.

Next was Jean Prouvaire, but once you expressed remote interest in his poetry, you were entitled to address him as Jehan. His passion was for writing, short stories, but mainly poems. He got sidetracked far too often to attempt something longer. He dormed with Courfeyrac, and the two walked to classes together in the mornings and afternoons, the latter listening his casual interest as Jehan read his latest work. He was soft-spoken, but always there to provide a reasonable voice. Overall, he was well loved.

After Jehan came Joly, a notorious hypochondriac. He was majoring in medicine, and les Amis swore they would be waiting with a camera to capture the moment he first stepped foot in a hospital. Despite this, he paid fierce attention during meetings, as he calmly watched Enjolras, his hands folded in his lap.

Marius was next, a quiet dreamer who was majoring in law. He was just as passionate about the cause as Enjolras, though not quite so obvious about it. When he wasn't arguing with Enjolras over something or other, he was fawning over some girl, which prompted another argument with their handsome leader.

Then there was Feuilly, who spent time doting on every girl to catch his eye and folding fan after fan for them while he attentively listened to Enjolras' speeches. He was an art student, especially enjoying watercolors. Also, he was a renowned origami fanatic.

There was then Bossuet, or Lesgle. No one really knew what to call him. He was the oldest of the group, at the ripe old age of twenty-five. To make him a bigger object of derision, he was already balding. He was a history major, and they joked that it was fitting he learned about old men, as he basically was one. He ignored them, shaking his head and aiming kicks under the table.

Bahorel spent much of his time locked up in his room, obsessing over notes, and homework, and tests, and exams. He came from a poorer family, getting by on scholarships, and he was paranoid that the tiniest little slip up would get him expelled. It was ridiculous, but les Amis left him to it, so long as he remembered to eat and showed up to meetings.

Perhaps the most infuriating of the group was Grantaire. He was an art major, often found with a smudge of paint on his face and a drink near him, and was tolerated for his good humor. He sat quietly during meetings, a bottle of wine clutched in his hand, occasionally interrupting the Enjolras in order to reduce the man to nothing with a clever or sarcastic quip. It was very clear he though nothing of their cause, and no one knew why he stuck around. It was probably for the drinks…

The final member was Eponine. She was a feisty brunette, raised in an abusive household and getting by on scholarships, wanting to make something of herself so she could take in her little brother. Grantaire invited her to meetings, so she followed along, and her infatuation with Marius took flight. At the moment, the young woman didn't know what she wanted to do, bouncing from major to major, and taking whatever class seemed useful.

It was a Sunday night, and things in the backroom of the Musain were the same as always: the group was arguing over who would get the last mozzarella stick; Grantaire was working on his fifth drink, his chin resting on his hand; Enjolras and Marius were bickering over something; Bahorel was studying in the corner; Courfeyrac was regaling a reluctant Eponine with a story of his last encounter with a red head.

"Thanks for the story, Courf," she said, getting to her feet.

"But it's not over yet," he whined, more than slightly drunk.

She sighed, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "Class tomorrow."

There was a chorus of groans and Ponine laughed, walking over to the corner and forcing Grantaire to his feet. "Come on, drunkard," she spoke with an affectionate smile.

The two had first met in high school, and had always been close. Grantaire often crashed on her couch, and her white carpet was splattered with countless wine stains.

He doesn't complain as she leads him to the door, instead leaning his head against her shoulder. "See you all tomorrow," Eponine called, and they respond half-heartedly, the announcement of classes resuming dawning on all of them.

With a stilted laugh, she half-dragged Grantaire out of the café and started towards her car. It was green and beat-up, though the imperfections didn't show much in the dark. "In you go," she spoke quietly, helping him into the passenger seat and buckling him in.

"Thanks, Ep," he murmured, leaning his head against the seat with a lazy half-smile.

"You're lucky you have someone looking out for you," she answered, shutting the door gently behind him and moving around to settle into the driver's seat. "Crashing on the couch tonight?"

"Yeah," he replied as she turned the key to the ignition. The radio blared to life, and Adele's voice rang in their ears. "God," Grantaire groaned, holding his head. "Turn the goddamn thing off."

 _Never mind I'll find, someone like you,_ the voice belted as Eponine shut off the radio. "Sorry," she said sheepishly as she pulled out of the parking space.

"You are so predictable," Grantaire remarked, lifting his head from his hands.

Eponine glanced over at him as she stopped before the red light. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Listening to Adele… you know." She raised an eyebrow and he continued, "Marius. You're acting like a teenage girl."

The brunette scoffed, her hands tightening around the wheel. "I'm fine, R. Really."

"I know you can take care of yourself," he began, his voice slurring. "But that doesn't mean I can't help you. You know, like you help me."

Eponine remained silent, but reached over to gently take his hand. The light turned green, and they resumed their progress back to Eponine's apartment, a comfortable silence ensuing. She parked the car in front of the building and hurried to help Grantaire out. "How the hell are you going to manage classes tomorrow?" she muttered worriedly as he swayed to and fro.

"Don't remind me," he answered as they made their way to the door. Eponine shook her head as they slowly climbed the stairs to the third floor, Grantaire complaining the whole way, saying he was about to pass out and die.

The brunette rolled her eyes, muttering "Such a drama queen," as she unlocked the door to the flat. Grantaire immediately flopped down on the couch, pulling a blanket over himself.

"Night," Eponine said, running a hand through his dark curls. "See you in the morning. Don't oversleep."

"I won't, Ep," he answered, rolling onto his side. "Goodnight."

She pulled her hand away from him and started into her room, quickly changing into her pj's, and carrying out her usual nightly routine of brushing her teeth, washing her face, and reading over her notes. Eponine was just about to climb into bed when a weak knock came from the other side of the door. "Yeah, 'taire?" she asked, confusion and worry quickly setting in. "It's open."

Grantaire pushed the door open, leaning against the doorframe before quietly asking, "Can I stay in here tonight?"

Relief washed over Eponine's face, and she let out a breathy laugh. "Of course, R," she said, patting the spot on the bed next to her. "There's plenty of room."

He smiled gratefully, shutting the door and kicking off his shoes before crawling under the covers beside her. "Scared of the dark?" she teased, smirking as she reached to turn out the light.

"Not one bit," he answered. "Just afraid your cats will maul me in my sleep."

Eponine laughed as the room was plunged into darkness. She leaned back against the pillow, smiling faintly when Grantaire's arms wrapped around her.

"Thanks for looking out for me, Ep," he muttered as his eyes slipped closed.

Eponine looked at the wall as she answered, "I could say the same for you." She paused before adding, "Goodnight."

There was no response but the sound of his even breathing. The brunette smiled sleepily before closing her eyes, soon joining him in sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was mainly character descriptions. Sorry. Also, this isn't meant to be Grantaire/Eponine. I just think they would be great friends.  
> Also, I just started the brick, so I don't know much about some of the characters. Sorry if I'm screwing them up.


End file.
